Wolverine and the Vampire
by JaynaLeeTietje
Summary: After Jean's death, Logan believes he has lost her and is struggling to move on. But a strange woman with a mission and a key to Logan's past comes rushing into his life. Will she be just the cure he needs?
1. Chapter 1

Wolverine and the Vampire

Chapter 1

(A/N: This takes place after the death of Jean at the Lake)

Logan slapped a ten dollar bill on the bar before heading toward the door. He pulled on his jacket and placed a cigar in his mouth. The bell of the bar door rang as it shut behind him.

He rubbed his hands together as the winter chill began to set into his bones. He crossed the nearly empty parking lot scattered with rusted trucks already covered in a thick layer of snow. Just as he was about hop onto his motorcycle, he heard a shuffling sound and a muffled cry.

Debating for a moment if he should investigate, he sighed before pocketing his cigar and walking toward the nearby surrounding forest. He focused his senses. There was a slurping noise, and the undeniable smell of blood. He was only a few feet into the trees' shadows before he saw two figures. They took no notice of his presence.

The taller of the two people had his back against a tree. It was a young man, no more than twenty-five years old. The second person was a woman. She seemed to be nuzzling the man's neck. But as Logan took a step closer for a better look, she woman stepped back quickly. The man against the tree slumps to the ground limply. Logan doesn't have to get closer to confirm the man is dead.

Logan stands his ground, eyeing the woman cautiously. She is young, no older than twenty years old. Her hair is made of wild dark curls that almost reach her waist. The locks blow to one side as a gust of wind blows by. The smell of blood onslaughts Logan. The woman steps closer to Logan. She is wearing a brown motorcycle jacket, left open to expose a black v-neck shirt. Her jeans are tight, but faded by heavy wear. The bottoms of the jeans are tattered. And the woman is standing barefoot in the snow. She's a curvy girl, slightly heavier than the norm. But as she walks, she shows no sign of a lack of confidence.

She suddenly grins, exposing a set of long pointed eye teeth. The woman laughs, and shakes a finger at him teasingly. She continues forward, sauntering like a large cat, stalking her prey.

"I'm glad I didn't find you first," she purrs. "I would hate to have drained such a fine looking man."

And then she is in front of him, mere inches away. She is about 5'6". She reaches up and runs a finger along his jaw. Logan stiffens at her touch that sends shivers up his skin. Her eyes are a startling green, dark like forest leaves, but with a shine that puts emeralds to shame. He notices a drop of blood below her lip. She begins to circle him, running a cool hand along his body as she does.

"Its been centuries since I've encountered a real man. Not these poor excuses of boys and old men that have never worked a real day in their lives. They like to play with the fantasy that they could survive in the wilderness. They pretend they are a part of nature. Tough guys, they say. But one kind word from a pretty mouth and the exterior falls away. And soon they are crying, begging for mercy."

She has come full circle and she stops in front of him again. "But you, you are a part of nature. I can smell it on you. You're closer to me than you think. I feel you judging me, judging me for taking that poor excuse of a life. Keep judging away. I haven't fed in weeks." She places a hand gently on his chest, over his heart. "But you aren't like the others. What I wouldn't give for…"

But she isn't able to complete her sentence. Logan impales her abdomen with his claws. He waits for her to spit up blood and collapse but it doesn't happen. She laughs and steps away as if had tickled her. She shakes her finger at him again. He retracts his claws, shocked.

She steps closer pressing herself against him, and she looks at his tags. "Wolverine. What is your real name?" But Logan looks past her, avoiding her eyes. She snarls and places both and hands on his face, forcing him to look at her gaze. She's too strong for him, inhumanly strong. His eyes meet hers. "Tell me your real name."

Logan feels a sense of peace fill him as she speaks to him the second time. He feels warm and oddly linked to the strange woman, as if he would do anything for her. The words fall from his lips like water from a river.

"My name is Logan."

The woman laughs and backs up slightly. "Now was that so hard?"

She twirls herself underneath the thick snow fall. Logan steps back, shaken from her compulsion and ready to run. But she is instantly in his path. She is too fast for him. He growls at her, despite knowing that she is the stronger of the two, and seems just as undefeatable as he is. She smiles up at him and sits down at his feet, the snow not making a difference to her. She grabs his hand and yanks him down to her level in one motion.

"What do you want?" he asks her gruffly. "You want to drain me like him?"

She pats his hand and frowns. "No. Not you. I've never met a human like you. You smell different." She leans in and inhales, closing her eyes briefly.

Logan stiffens. "You didn't answer my question."

Smiling, she exposes her teeth again, but the fangs are retracted. "Companionship."

Logan actually laughs, and he stands quickly. "Companionship? Why don't you just use your creepy mind control and find yourself someone else."

She is on her feet quickly. "I want your companionship."

Logan pauses as he looks down at her. "Are you a mutant?"

Her head cocks to the side. "I am Vampire. Is that what you call yourself, you with the claws? I know you're not human. We look like humans, but far from it."

Logan studies her. He debates to himself whether to offer his help or not. He knows she has to be insane to actually believe in Vampires, to the point of thinking she herself is one. She has to be a mutant, a socially deprived, closeted mutant. He runs a hand through his hair quickly before opening his mouth.

"How long have you been on the run?" Logan asks her.

"I am not running," she says defensively. "I stay hidden, for everyone's own good."

"Well, you can keep hiding," Logan says as he lights his cigar, "Or I can take you to my friends, where you can get help."

She steps away from him. "What kind of help? There is only one thing I need help with, and you alone can help me."

He steps toward her. "You came here for me. It wasn't a coincidence."

She vanishes and Logan turns sharply when he hears her voice from across the clearing. She's halfway up a tree as she speaks. "Yes, but I swear I am not here to harm you. I only need your help. I have been trailing your brother, but I lost his track months ago."

Logan laughs, exhaling smoke at once. "You've got the wrong man. I don't have a brother."

She's in front of him in an instant. Snatching the cigar from his mouth and tossing it into the snow. "I know you've lost your memories. But you do have a brother. You and I have something very much in common."

Logan crosses his arm and smirks. "And that would be?"

"We both want your brother dead."

Logan turns on his heel and begins to walk toward the parking lot. He's laughing as he walks away from the strange woman. But she is at his side, matching him step for step. He tries to shoe her away, but she snarls.

She grabs his hand and hurls him, causing him to crash into a tree. Before he can get up, she is looming over him. Her bare foot is on his throat. She smiles at him, exposing her fangs.

"I can prove it to you." She half whispers and leans in closely. "I can have your professor verify my thoughts, my memories. And after you remember, you will be dying to join in on my revenge."

She steps back and watches Logan as he cracks his neck and stands up. He continues to walk away, toward the parking lot. He reaches his motorcycle and turns, she stops inches away from him, searching his eyes for something he can't fathom.

"Let's get this straight," Logan says to her. "I'll take you to the professor to see if you're lying or not. But if you lay a finger on anyone at that school, I promise I will find a way to kill you. The moment I say leave, you leave, and don't come back. Am I clear?"

She laughs and salutes him mockingly. "Clear, Sir."

"Get on."

Climbing on behind him, she seems nervous. She places her hands in her lap. Logan laughs and grabs her hands, pulling her forward until she is flush against him. He secures her arms around her middle.

"What's your name?" he calls over his shoulder.

"Daria."

"Hold on, Daria."

And they are flying. Daria holds against him and closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see the trees and snow flashing by her. She hides her face in the leather on his broad back. Her hair flies behind her in waves, shadows against the snowy night. Logan is silent as he maneuvers them over the snow covered roads that wind through the Canadian mountains.

Time passes smoothly. Daria is motionless as Logan pulls to motorcycle to a stop. She opens her eyes and finds them at the parking lot of a dirty motel. The sign flickers over their heads. Its almost dawn as Logan offers a hand to steady Daria climbing off the seat, though not stiff from the cold or position. Logan leads her into the office, grateful for the heat.

"You don't happen to plan on chipping in on expenses?" he grunts at her laughingly.

Daria marches past him, catching the gaze of the desk attendant as he looks up to greet them. His smile is blank as he looks at Daria, unable to look the other way. She waves her fingers at him obligingly.

"You will give us a room tonight for free." She leans in toward the desk clerk. "No one is to go into that room until tomorrow night. No maids. You never saw us."

The man is still smiling as he hands Daria a key. Daria breaks his gaze and turns toward Logan, she smiles and tosses him the key. "Lets go, Sir."

They climb the stairs and reach the last room in the corridor. Logan doesn't bother a grunt of thanks toward Daria. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his boots off before lying back, sprawled against the scratchy comforter. He closes his eyes.

Daria begins to slip off her jacket, leaving it on the chair. She follows with her t-shirt, a sports bra, and the jeans. Just as she is about to slip her underwear off, she hears Logan yelp. She turns quickly toward him, where he is standing, looking anywhere but at her.

"Um, Jesus." Logan exclaims. "What are you doing?"

Daria steps toward him peering up until she catches his gaze. "Have I offended you? I was simply getting undressed to take a shower. Its been years since I've bathed indoors."

"When's the last time you've socialized with people?"

Daria stands there unabashed. "I don't socialize. I hide myself, to prevent my discovery. I live in the wilderness, coming out only when I need to feed."

Logan tosses his own jacket at her. "Well, here's a tip for you. People don't get naked in front of each other."

Daria frowns. "But why? Is there something wrong with my body? You don't like it?"

Logan tries to look away, but Daria grabs his chin, dropping his jacket on the bed. He swallows and looks at her, only at her face. "There's nothing wrong with your body. Its not that I don't appreciate it. But nowadays its not appropriate to expose yourself, unless you are comfortable with the other person." He looks at her eyes. "Understand?"  
Daria shrugs and continues to shed her underwear. "I understand. Don't take my clothes off in front of people." She looks over her shoulder and smiles before closing the bathroom door.

"That includes me!" Logan calls through the door.

But all he hears in response is her laughter and the sound of the shower running. Logan goes back to the bed and falls asleep within moments.

When Logan opens his eyes, he leans over and glances at the alarm clock screwed onto the night stand. Its already three in the afternoon. They've slept the day away. He looks around the room and sees no sign of Daria. Her clothes are gone. He scratches the back of his neck as he knocks on the bathroom door. No response.

He opens the door, only to find Daria asleep on a bed of towels on the bathroom floor. She is fully dressed doesn't make a sound at Logan's entrance. He leans over and nudges her. No response. Logan turns on the shower, still no reaction from the girl. He undresses quickly and steps under the lukewarm water. Just as he is rinsing the shampoo from his hair, he hears laughter in his ear.

Logan's claws come out and he swipes blinding. She is still laughing nearby. He rinses quickly and peeks from behind the curtain. Daria is perched on the toilet, watching him. Her eyes twinkle as she waves her fingers at him. He pulls the curtain closer to himself, but she only laughs more, pointing a finger. He looks down and sees he has shredded the curtain in his blind attack.

"Get out of here!" he shouts at her. "Privacy!"

She laughs as she saunters from the room. When Logan steps out of the bathroom, he is fully clothed. Daria waves at him casually from the rumpled bed. Logan sits across from her in the seat, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"You're the one who chose to undress where I slept," Daria says casually. "Thanks for making my day." She winks at him.

"Let's go," Logan grunts at her.

Daria peers out the window, eyeing the sky. Its grey and overcast, lightly snowing. She can see his motorcycle from where she stands, it is covered in a dusting from the morning's snowfall. She follows Logan outside where he brushes off the bike and waits for her.

Before he can start the engine, she touches his arm. "If the overcast disappears on our way, we have to stop."

He laughs. "Vampire thing?"  
Daria glares at him, but climbs barefoot behind him, gripping the sides of Logan's jacket. They ride all day without a stop and into the night. Daria glances occasionally at the glimpses of the moon she can catch. She judges it is about 10pm or so when Logan finally cuts the engine in front of a large stone mansion on immaculately kept grounds.

Logan climbs off the bike and doesn't wait for her as he moves toward the front doors. He glances over his shoulder and Daria is suddenly at his side. He shakes his head to himself.

"Never going to get to used to that," he says to her, opening the door and stepping inside.

Daria doesn't follow him. She stops at the threshold, not moving an inch.

"You have to invite me in," Daria says sullenly, her laughter lifeless. "It has been a while since I've had to be invited in."

Logan smirks. "Do I need to say anything fancy, or…"

Daria is not amused. She snarls at him, fangs exposed. "I'm not the right woman to tease, Wolverine."

He laughs, unafraid. "Come in."

She steps through the doorway. Her bare feet don't make a sound on the hard wood floors. Daria peers around the next doorway like a caged animal sniffing out its new environment. Most of the students are already in their rooms for the night and the mansion is quiet.

Logan waves a hand at her, motioning for her to follow him. She is silent as she follows him down the hallway. Logan stops and part of the wall slides to the side, causing Daria to jump. She watches as he steps into the small white room. She cautiously steps beside him, and presses herself against the wall as the door slide shuts, trapping them. As the elevator begins to move upward, Daria clenches her hands into fists and her eyes close.

"I hate these moving objects," Daria says through clenched teeth. "The fast ones that cut through the forests now, flying in the sky. Humans shouldn't have made them. Its against nature."

But as the elevator stops, Daria is out on the solid floor before the sliding door is completely open. Logan steps past her after patting her on the shoulder. She shudders before walking on. They walk into Xavier's office. The professor is awake, waiting for them.

"Welcome Daria," the professor says as he approaches her. "Logan. What can I assist you with this evening?"

Logan leans against the wall. "I need to know if what she says is the truth."

Xavier motions toward Daria. "Please, sit down." He smiles. "Is this of your own free will?" He takes her hand gently, but lets go almost immediately. "I see you are gifted."

Logan chuckles as Xavier says this. "She says she is a vampire."

Daria glares at him. "I am a vampire. I have been for a very long time."

Xavier nods. "May I ask, how long?"

"Since 1100AD, give or take a few years," she responds with a shrug.

"Logan wishes for me to confirm the truth of your thoughts," Xavier says quietly. "Is this acceptable to you?"

Daria smiles. "I am the one who suggested it."

Xavier takes her hand again. He closes his eyes. Daria watches him with a new curiosity. Even with his eyes shut, she can see that the professor is struggling with reading her. He stops after only a few moments.

"It seems," Xavier says, "That I will need more time to explore your thoughts. You have a natural barrier that I cannot read past. Tomorrow, when it is not so late." He proceeds to return to behind his desk. "Goodnight."

Daria smiles before she walks outside the office. Logan walks past her stiffly, heading up a large staircase. She is on his heels. He opens a door in the hallway at the top of the stairs and stops abruptly.

"I don't want to wake Storm to find you a room." Logan says gruffly to her. "You can have mine for the night. I'll come get you in the morning."

He steps away from the open door and watches Daria walk in. She opens her mouth to speak, but he shakes his head and quickly walks away. She can hear his steps down the stairs and all the way to the front door that shuts with a slam.

Daria sits on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window at the moon. Its nearly full. She closes the drapes and breathes out experimentally in the near complete darkness. She lies on the still made bed. As her head hits the pillow she is surrounded by Logan's scent. She turns her head and inhales. She smells pine, cigar smoke, and a wild scent that can't be explained.

Daria dreams of running between the pines, running toward the wild scent that belongs to a single creature.


	2. Chapter 2

Daria awoke to the sound of a pounding fist on the bedroom door. Instantly on her feet, she walks through the dark room and cracks open the door. Logan is standing impatiently on the other side. He presses his way past her. In his hands are folded clothing. He drops them on this still made bed.

"I'll wait outside."

She undresses and places her old clothing gently on top of the bare dresser. The material is thread-bare. Logan has brought her a generic grey sweatsuit. It must have belonged to man. She is swimming in the extra fabric. Hastily, she rolls up the sleeves and pants legs. She notices the shoes left on the bed, but ignores them and walks out the door.

Logan is leaning against the wall. He has a lit cigar in the side of his mouth. Daria wrinkles her nose at the smell of smoke. She glances out the window and notices the thick rain fall. She nearly exhales in relief.

"That is a nasty habit," she says to Logan as he begins to go down the stairs.

Logan doesn't bother to glance over his shoulder as he leads her into the professor's office. "Are you my mother?"

Daria passes him in the room, but not before pinching his bare arm rather hard. He growls at her and she grins, exposing her fangs. But she turns toward Xavier and smiles pleasantly, retracting her teeth. She climbs into a chair, her knees against her chest. She looks like a cat, ready to pounce on an innocent mouse.

"Daria, I would like to put you in an induced sleep," Xavier begins, "I feel that it would be easier for me to read your thoughts if you were unconcious, that your barriers may naturally come down."

Daria shrugs her shoulders. "You'll have to nearly drain me. I don't sleep. I can only rest."

Logan chuckles. "I'll gladly drain her for you, Professor."

Xavier turns to Logan with a severe glance. "That will not be necessary. You should be kinder to her, she could have chosen to leave you without any knowledge of your past."

Logan grunts in response.

"I believe I can handle this from here," the professor continues, "You can help Storm with defense classes if you choose."

He opens his mouth to respond, but Daria cuts in quickly. "No. He should be with me. It may help if I have incentive."

* * *

Daria lies on a medical examination table on the lower levels of the school. Xavier has her arm attached to an IV, where her blood drains drop by drop into clear plastic bags. Logan sits in a chair across from her in the room.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Logan asks, standing up and moving toward Daria. "Is there anything I can do to quicken the process."

Daria hisses at his threat weakly. "Any moment..."

But her eyes close mid-sentence. Xavier removes the tubing from her arm and sets the blood bag aside with the growing pile on the table nearby. He gently places his hand on the side of her face, and his eyes go blank as he begins to focus. Logan watches him intently.

The professor converses with Daria silently within her mind. She is alert enough to sense his presence, but weak enough that she is unable to put up her natural barriers. She listens to his calm voice as he asks her questions.

_ "How do you know Logan?" _

_ "I met him during the Civil War. It is a long story."_ She responds, her mind's voice sounds fearful. _"He can't know all of it. Promise me you won't tell him all of it."_

The professor hesitates. _"I will only tell him what you wish for him to know."_

_ "It was 1863. I was living in the south, close to my bloodline. They had emigrated to the United States years earlier. I always stayed near my bloodline, for years. I wanted to ensure their survival. It worked. For a time._

I would feed on fallen soldiers at night after battle. But one night, a Union soldier came across me. He didn't know what I was doing, what I am. He followed me as I tried to disappear into the woods. But he caught my scent. I had never spent time with humans, except for the ones I fed on. But this man was different. He didn't smell human. He found me each night near his army's encampment. I didn't feed on him, I didn't use my compulsion to have him near me. He followed me his own accord. For weeks, he would find me at night. We fell in love. But we both had our secrets.

One night, as I walked to woods surrounding my bloodline's home, to check on them, everything went wrong. I could hear their screams. I could smell their blood, their fear. I couldn't get inside. They didn't know I existed. I had never been invited in. By the time I could step over the threshold, they were all dead. The mother and her three daughters were dead. Raped, beaten, and clawed to death.

I went after him, the true monster. He stood their laughing at me as my attacks against him healed before my eyes.

And then Logan was there. He saw me for what I truly am. He saw my teeth, my speed, my strength. And it terrified him. His brother stood their, blaming the death of my family on me. He smiled as told his lies, defiled my name, in the aftermath of ending my bloodline. I begged Logan to understand, to see that it was his brother's doing. But it was too late, he was too afraid to listen. And for the first time, I saw him for the animal his brother called him. He stabbed me with his claws, but it did nothing. I bolted into the night before anything more could happen.

Late that night, I sneaked into his army's encampment. I followed his scent until I found him asleep, alone in his tent. Gently, I woke him. Before he could scream, I used my compulsion on him. I told him to forget all that happened in the cabin in the woods, to forget what he saw of me. I told him to forget me, but only until I gave him permission to remember. I left into the night again as he fell asleep.

That night, I vowed to myself that I would kill Victor. I followed Logan and his brother for years. It didn't take me long to realize that they aged so slowly, that he was almost like me. I followed them in each war, waiting for an opportunity to kill Victor. I watched them from the shadows. But Victor was all Logan had left, and I couldn't bare to see Logan in pain.

But everything went wrong again. Logan left Victor for a real life. I cried as I watched from afar as he fell in love with another woman after all those years. I lurked around his home, protecting him from his brother.

And I watched as Logan's love faked her own death with Victor's help. I saw him cry out as he held her still body. I followed him to Stryker's layer, but I could not follow him, for I was not invited in. When he emerged from the facility, he was a different man. He smelled the same, but their was a metallic taste in the air surrounding him. I watched as he fought, as his brother escaped again, as his love died. And I saw him wake up with no recollection of who he was.

I stopped following Logan, choosing to kill Victor first before I gave Logan back his memories. But Victor learned I was following him. He was a step ahead of me for years. But only a handful of months ago, I lost his trail. And I came to find Logan, to protect him again. And here I am. Here to avenge both my own and Logan's losses."

The professor responds softly. "_What am I not to tell him?"_

_ "Tell him his brother killed my family. Tell him his brother caused his woman's death. Tell him his brother wishes to kill him."_ She sighs. _"But tell him no more than that. I will give him his memories when he is able to accept them."_

* * *

When Daria opens her eyes, she can feel that night has already fallen. She sits up quickly, ripping the needle from her arm. Logan is sitting at her side. His head is in his hands, and he looks up at Daria. There is no anger left in his eyes, only sadness. She reaches out a hand tentatively, but he stands and walks away from her, leaving her alone to her thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Left alone in the medical examination room, Daria wanders out into the main hallway. A group of humans walks ahead of her, chatting to each other amiably. She presses herself against the wall as their smell wafts toward her. She can almost taste their blood. Youthful, healthy, clean blood. It tempts her more than it should. It's been so long since she's had alcohol or drug free blood.

Her body begins to glide after the group. It's too late. Once she's started she can't stop the hunt. Her speed quickens. The group continues to talk to each other, unaware of their imminent deaths. But just as Daria's hand reaches out, her body is yanked backward. Arms lock around her arms and her middle. She thrashes from side to side, snarling. Her hair falls over her eyes. She feels herself sinking toward the floor. She can feel the hard tile through her sweat pants.

"Shh." She hears in her ear, a deep husky voice. "Shh."

"Let go of me," she hisses quietly. She smells the air. The group of young humans is gone.

Daria's body goes still as the hunt leaves her briefly. But there is that other smell. His smell. And despite the wild, animal-like nature of his scent, she longs for his blood too. A blood she has never tasted. His arms loosen their grip and she slides away from him on the floor, turning to face him. She pushes her hair away from her face and moves into a crouching position. Her fangs glint under the fluorescent lights.

Logan holds out his hands, palm forward. "You don't want to do this, Daria. You don't want to hurt them." He pauses and quickly grabs her hands. "I know you don't want to hurt me."

Daria remains crouching, staring at his hands that touch hers. He isn't flinching at her cool nature. She hops to her feet quickly.

"You have no idea what I want." She tells him quietly, but there is an edge to her response. "I need to get away from here. Now!"

Daria starts pacing side to side, like a caged animal. She laughs quietly. "I need to feed. And unless you want to end up dead, I suggest you get me away from this school." She yanks Logan to his feet. "Get me out of here!"

"I can't risk you attacking the students upstairs," Logan says slowly, trying to calm her, approaching her as she paces, step by step.

But it's too late. Daria has knocked Logan to the ground. She straddles his middle, her hands pinning his wrists to his sides. She smiles, feral. Her lips hover over the skin of his neck. She feels him extend his claws, but he can't move his arms to use them. She feels his heart rate quicken beneath her lips. She moves her mouth toward his ear.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Logan," she whispers. "I am aware you don't understand what I mean. I wish it didn't have to end this way. But I am so thirsty."

Daria inhales deeply as she moves her lips over his neck again. She kisses him so lightly that he doesn't feel it. He lies stiff as a board beneath her. And her teeth sink in like he is made of warm, melting butter. She drinks him in, struggling to slow her speed. But his blood is like life itself. She can't control herself. She moves her hands to his shoulders. And she's so consumed she doesn't move as he grabs her sides and flips her onto her back. She moans and twists in his grip as he straddles her now. Blood flows down her face and onto her neck. Her eyes are wild as she looks at Logan.

"Are you going to stab me, Logan?" she purrs. "I wouldn't blame you."

Logan peers into her face. "Are you drunk?"

"Drunk?" she repeats. "I feel more alive than I have ever felt in this life. I could swim across the ocean! I could fly! I could stand beneath the sun!"

Before Logan can respond, Daria places her hands on either side of this face. He has no where to look but her eyes. She smiles and leans upward until her lips meet his. He tastes his own blood on her lips. Her arms wrap around his neck and she moves upward until she is sitting on his lap. Her fingers find their way into his hair. Logan struggles to resist, but he finds himself unable to. He pulls her closer.

Daria breaks away from the kiss briefly. Looking into his eyes, "You don't want to do this; I can feel you resisting me." She pats his face gently. "One day, you will come to me on your own accord. I will be waiting."

Logan disentangles himself and stands up. "Keep telling yourself that, Daria." He pauses at the entrance to the elevator. "Are you alright?"

Daria doesn't hear him. She is spinning in circles, humming a song softly to herself. Logan steps in front of her, but she begins to circle him so quickly he is only seeing blurs of her movement. He can hear her laughing hysterically. She stops behind him, her cool hands over his eyes.

"Let's play a game," she purrs in his ear. "Come seek me."

Before Logan can protest, Daria is gone. He growls in frustration as he begins to follow her already fading scent. He follows the scent down the main hall and into the garage. He looks between the rows of cars, even beneath the cars. Just as he is about to leave, he hears her laugh again.

"Almost dawn," she calls out, giggling. "Sunlight! Daylight! Light, light, light!"

Logan is running toward the garage exit, fearful of what will happen when the sun touches her. As he steps outside, he can see her blur running toward the large fountain on the property. And she pauses, leaning over the edge of the pond, running her finger over the surface. She is still smiling and humming.

Daria grins as she sees Logan approach her, slowly, as if she is a wild animal. She dances up to him and places a hand on his chest, over his heart. The sun is just about to come over the horizon. She looks over her shoulder to where the sun is rising.

"Daria, please, come back inside," Logan says quietly to her.

She shakes her head at him. "I won't change. I can feel it." Her voice is barely a whisper. She isn't really speaking to him.

And the sun is up. Daria keeps her eyes open and she spreads her arms. She smiles. She turns abruptly toward Logan and grabs his hands. She opens her mouth to say something, but her face begins to crumple into a frown. She doubles over, her arms wrapped around her middle, as if trying to hold herself together. She begins to whimper. Logan reaches out to grab her, but the air around her begins to turn to a haze. He can't see her through the thick air. He can hear her screaming, but its off. Its as if its melting away into a snarling sound.

The haze disappears. Logan is left facing a pitch black cat next to a pile of shredded clothing, not a housecat, but something the size of a panther. The cat has all of its teeth exposed as it snarls at him. He can see the cat beginning to crouch. Logan takes a deep breath before making his move. He launches himself at the cat, wrapping his arms around its middle as best he can. He cringes as the animal sinks its claws into him, scratching at him frantically. He begins to wrestle he cat toward the garage entrance. Its slow work as he is scratched and bit. He is afraid to use his own claws, afraid that she won't heal in this form.

Finally, Logan rolls both himself and the cat into the garage. Once inside and out of the sunlight, the strange haze builds up and surrounds the cat. But the animal makes no noise as Daria had when she changed before. He waits and after a moment, the haze disappears. Daria is lying motionless on the floor, nude.

Its still quiet in the building, no one is awake yet. Logan eyes Daria wearily, but he scoops her into his arms and hurries into the school. Afraid she might waken, he carries her to his room. He is thankful the curtains are still pulled forward. He closes the door with his boot and lays Daria on his bed. He paces back and forth, debating whether he should get the professor and risk leaving her.

As Logan turns his back and is about to leave the room to find help, he is yanked backwards. His back hits the ground with such a force that the wind is knocked out of him. Daria has him pinned, again. He growls and tries to buck her off, but its no use.

"Can't resist me, can you?" Logan pants out, attempting to distract her as he watches her fangs slide out.

But Daria doesn't seem to hear him. She sinks her teeth into his neck without a moment's hesitation. She struggles with herself to stop as she feels his blood flow begin to turn almost sluggish. Like using a muscle she wasn't aware of, she throws herself off of him. She watches from the corner of the room as Logan's neck heals before her eyes, leaving specks of blood on his neck and wife-beater.

Logan is dazed from the blood loss, but furious. He kicks the dresser with his boot before turning on Daria. He looms over her, breathing heavily. Logan wants to yell at her, to send her packing, but all of his anger disappears in one last huff as he looks at her. Her face is in her hands, and she is mumbling to herself, half in English and half in a language Logan can't identify. He crouches to her level, trying not to look at her body.

"I should not have come here," Daria whispers. She pulls her hands away from her face and looks at him. "I am being selfish. And I can't even tell you why."

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but the door to his room opens. Scott and Storm stand in the doorway.

"What's all the commotion?" Storm asks, eyeing Daria wearily.

Scott steps forward and frowns. "Bringing home women so soon." He practically spits it out. "And you said you loved her." He steps closer. "Let me get a look at her before she dies for you too."

Logan snarls and stands up, blocking Scott from Daria. He snatches the bedspread and passes it to her. She hastily covers herself up. But she is on her feet and flowing past Logan. He reaches out to grab her hand, but she slightly shakes his head. She stops only a few inches from Scott.

"You speak so sadly," she says to him. She touches his dark red glasses. "You're not very good at hiding it." Daria stares at him and her eyes flash. "You won't harass Logan anymore. You won't use your words to hurt him. Do you understand me?"

Scott nods numbly. Daria leans in close, inhaling his scent. "You smell of pain and light. Now leave."

Storm is left glancing between Daria and Logan. She is tight-lipped as she purposely ignores Daria and looks to Logan.

"Professor needs you two in the medical room"

Storm turns to leave, but Daria is already in front of the door, blocking her path. "You smell of judgment," she whispers in her ear. "But you and I will be great friends. I promise this."

Daria steps aside, smiling at Storm briefly. She turns and Logan looks alarmed. He turns away from her and starts rifling through is drawers. He tosses her fabric and she catches it easily. Logan turns and watches as she drops the blanket from around her. He starts to look away, but she touches his arm.

"You're blushing," she says with a laugh.

Logan looks at her eyes. "You're going to end up in trouble if you keep stripping in front of me."

"Psh!" she laughs at him, pulling on the flannel shirt that nearly reaches her knees. "You are not that kind of man, Logan. You never were."

She glances up as she begins to button it. Logan is watching her intently. Daria can see that animal-like instinct in his eyes. She stops buttoning about half way up. He steps closer to her, tentatively his hands move to her waist. Daria sighs but steps back, continuing to button her shirt. Logan steps closer to her.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asks, grabbing her wrists tightly, pulling her against his chest.

"Logan," she whispers. "It isn't supposed to happen this way. You need time. You need healing."

One of his hands moves to tangle in her long curls. "You heal me. Use your mind tricks, I don't care."

Daria shakes her head. She's lost in old memories as his hands continue to caress her. She hasn't been touched this way in more than a hundred years. "No. I cannot do that to you. Not again."

But its too late before Daria realizes she's slipped up. Logan's hands stop moving on her body.

"Again?" he asks blankly.

She pulls away from him. "It was for your own good," she says so quietly.

Before she can bolt, Logan's hands are gripping her wrists again. She nearly yelps at his hold.

"Tell me." He says. But Daria shakes her head, afraid to look him in the eye. "Tell me!" he yells.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Daria snatches her hands away from Logan and steps away from him. For the first time in her Vampire life, she is truly frightened. She sees him extend his claws.

"Logan," she says pleadingly. "I swear I wanted to tell you. But it was never the right time."

He laughs chokingly. "But now was? You came to find me after Jean died, after I was already broken. Why not step in sooner? Why not control me? I know you can."

"I will tell you anything you want to know," Daria pleads. "Anything. All you need to do is ask."

"I can't do this now." Logan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He flicks one of the buttons on her borrowed shirt. "Just finishing buttoning up. The professor still wants to see us."

Swimming in his shirt, Daria follows Logan out of his bedroom. She sticks to the shadows in the hallway, terrified of repeating this morning's incident. The students are safe from her, safe at their desks in the class room. Once they are both trapped in the elevator, Logan glances at her.

"So, it seems you're the animal," he comments.

Daria glances at him. "You're in a mood."

Logan's face starts to turn red. "I'm in a mood? You brainwashed me and now you want to use me to kill my own brother! I think I have a right to be "in a mood."

Daria tugs at the sleeves that keep falling past her hands. "You've become so dramatic over the years."

Logan growls toward her. She grins, exposing her fangs. But her heart isn't really into the game. She knows that her chances of winning over Logan now are very slim. Now it is two women he's loved and lost. And she, the first and forgotten love. Daria closes her eyes as the elevator begins to drop. Despite his hard exterior, Logan places a hand on her shoulder until the box stops moving. He lets go of her quickly and she follows him out.

Daria sees that Professor Xavier, Scott, and Storm are already waiting for them. Scott seems oddly at peace when he sees Logan. But he eyes Daria like she is a piece of meat. Logan notices and he steps in front of Daria protectively. She flicks him on the back of his head. He shrugs and sits down in the chair. Daria drops to the floor, perched at Logan's feet. Her hair creates static against his blue jeans.

"Daria," Xavier begins, "While you were drained last night, I took the liberty of studying your DNA. I apologize if this seems intrusive. But for the safety of the students and professors that reside here, I felt that my investigation was justified."

Logan places a hand on Daria's shoulder and speaks before she responds. "You _justified_ testing her like an animal in a lab? Studying her without permission is as wrong as humans experimenting on Mutants. You could have waited to ask her. She may not be a child or runaway teenager, but Daria is in just as much need of this school's support as any other student who has walked through these doors, possibly more so."

Daria reaches up and pats Logan's hand. "Logan, do not do this. Its fine."

"Its not fine!" Logan nearly shouts. "You belong here as much as everyone else does."

She shakes her head and turns to look at him. "The professor is right. I'm not one of you. I am a danger to everyone around me." She pauses before slipping from beneath his hand. "You of all should understand that." Daria turns back to facing the Professor. "I will leave at first dark, no hard feelings."

Daria leaves the room at her shadowy speed, leaving the Mutants behind. Logan leaps to his feet and walks toward the professor. His breath is heavy.

"If she leaves, I am leaving as well," Logan growls at the older man. "This is supposed to be a place of tolerance. Of all people, after all of your kindness, I never expected this of you."

Logan storms out of the room. He doesn't look over his shoulder. Still faint in the air, Logan begins to follow Daria's scent. He wanders down the hall and into one of the tunnels that leads to the edge of the school's property. Her scent is sharp compared to the dampness hanging in the air of the stone tunnel. Logan speeds up his pace. Daria smells intoxicating, although he hates to admit it to himself. She smells of snow, salt, and wildflowers. He starts running, climbing out of the metal grate and into the forest. Her scent leads further into the shadows. He ducks low branches and runs over fallen trees. He feels something that he hasn't felt since the night he killed Jean.

Logan is afraid.

As Logan turns sharply while trailing her scent, he sees Daria standing in front of him, standing as still as a statue. He nearly trips over his own feet as he tries to stop running, tries to prevent himself from crashing into her. Logan stops a few feet away, afraid that she will bolt if he comes to close. His breathing is ragged.

"Logan, go back," she says with a snarl.

But he steps toward her anyway. "No."

Daria extends her fangs, but she isn't smiling. "I said go!"

"And I told you no, Daria." He grabs her hands, swallowing them in his own. "If you don't want me, then say it to me."

She looks incredulous, too shocked to pull her hands away. ""Want _you_?" She tries to laugh, but it sounds like she is choking. "I told you I needed your help, to find your brother. You're letting things go to your head."

"You didn't say it," he says softly. "I don't want to play games. I'm not a toy."

"Logan," she whispers pleadingly.

His lips are on hers before she can take another breath. Her lips are cool against his own. His hands are rough on her as he yanks her close to him. Logan's hands trail up her legs and underneath his flannel shirt. He lifts her up and she wraps his legs around his middle. She moans into his mouth as he presses her back into a tree. She can feel the heat of his body through his clothing. He trails kisses down her neck, nipping at her shoulder. Daria shudders.

Logan's world shifts and he finds himself on his back. Daria is straddling him. Her hands are on his chest, moving upward until they are on his face. He turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand. He watches as her eyes close. She rocks against him, not realizing as she does it. Logan leans his head back. He growls in frustration. His hands reach for the buttons on her shirt, but her eyes open quickly and she jumps back, landing on her feet.

"What is it?" Logan asks, getting to his feet quickly, searching around them through the trees.

Daria shakes her head at him. "I can't take advantage of you, not like this."

Logan grins and laughs. "_You_? Taking advantage of _me_?" He laughs again and reaches out his hand for her, but she takes a step back.

"Yes," she says seriously, "If this is to happen, if you choose to be with me, you need to know your past first."

He gives her no room to move as his pins her against a tree. "I don't need to know it. We can start now, as if we just met."

Daria shakes her head at him. "No. You are still healing from Jean's death. In order for me to protect you, to save you, I need you to know everything."

"If that is what it takes to be with you, for you to love me," he says, "Then tell me."

"You want this of me?"

Logan kisses her deeply. "Yes."

Daria sighs and she places a hand on his face. Logan takes a deep breath and he sees her eyes flash strangely. Every thought, sensation, desire belongs to Daria now as she gazes into his eyes.

"Logan," she says softly. "It's time. Remember me. Remember us."

Logan is flooded with images. Not images, memories. The civil war. Endless battles. Night after night with Daria. Every inch of her body. A man similar to him, his brother. A murder scene. A visit and a farewell.

Daria breaks her gaze and she watches as Logan blinks. When he looks at her, its as if he never stopped. As if they never spent the last 150 + years apart. Logan steadies his hands before he reaches for her. His arms wrap around her and pull her close. Daria feels it as he lightly kisses the top of her head. She rests her head over his beating heart. Inhaling him.

"Dasha," he whispers into her hair.

Logan can feel her smiling. She looks up at him. "You remember."

He chuckles. "It never did feel right calling you Daria."

Daria pulls back and looks up at him. "How much do you remember, Logan?"

Logan lays Daria on the ground. He watches as the fallen leaves and pine needles entwine in her long curling hair. He kneels at her feet, like a man praying at the idol of a Goddess. He kisses her ankles softly. There is no urgency in his kisses now.

"I remember finding you on a battle field," he whispers. "I thought you were an angel."

Logan's hands explore the soft skin of her calves. "I remember following your scent into the woods."

He kisses her thighs, his stubble tickling her skin. "You smelled of snow, and salt, and wildflowers."

Daria squirms as his hands slide under her flannel shirt. "I remember you hiding in the shadows of our battalion's camp, your eyes daring me to follow you," he moves the shirt further up "and begging me to leave."

Logan's hands cup her heavy breasts. He nuzzles the valley between them gently. "I remember meeting you night after night, praying I would see you after every battle."

Daria tangles her hands in his hair. "I remember the night I told you I loved you and you ran away," he tells her.

Logan pulls Daria to a sitting position, his fingers lazily trail up her arms as he pulls of her shirt. "You came back the next night and lead me into the woods. You told me you loved me as well."

Daria's long hair falls around her, covering her breasts. Logan inhales sharply. She looks like a part of nature. His hands hold her face gently and he smiles. "I made love to you that night for the first and last time. The first time I had ever been with a woman."

A feral smile slips onto Daria's face. "I don't want to hear anymore tonight."

She tears open his shirt. She undresses him, making tatters of all his clothing. She laughs and knocks him on his back on the ground. She smiles at him and leans in for a kiss. Logan growls and flips her onto her back before her lips reach his. He lies on top of her, supporting himself on his arms. His eyes soften as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Logan grins at her. "And tonight will be nothing like the last time."


	5. Chapter 5

Logan and Daria have been on the forest floor for hours. Her ear is against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He trails his hand lazily up and down her smooth skin. It's cool to his touch, never growing warm. Her skin is the same temperature as his claws.

"So, what now, Dasha?" Logan mumbles into her long, tangled hair.

Daria is on her feet in a flash. She twirls underneath the pine trees, her arms high above her head. Her hands are reaching for the sky. Logan is still lying on the ground, he turns on his side and props his head in his hand and watches her as she dances to a soundless tune. She reminds him of an innocent little girl, but as Dasha begins to spin so quickly that he can only see her blur against the branches' shadows he is reminded of what she truly is. She begins to slow, and her long flowing locks curl around her body.

She continues to swirl slowly. "We can stay in the forest forever, making love under the trees to the songs of the birds and leaves."

"Dasha," Logan says laughingly at her response.

Logan jumps slightly when Dasha is suddenly kneeling mere inches from him. She touches his face softly, moving her hand down, trailing her cool fingers on his arm until they gently massage the spaces between his knuckles. She feels his muscles tense beneath her touch.

"You and I, Logan," she whispers, "We're not like them. We are a part of the earth. We belong in nature. We weren't made to be crowded by this growing world, this violent society. We are meant to simply live."

Logan sits up and pulls Dasha into his lap, leaning back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her.

"Mmm," he murmurs. "I like the idea of making love to you."

Dasha squirms as he tightens his grip on her. "Logan, let's go. We can go to my home. We'll hide in the forests, where no one will be able to find us."

Logan stands up, bringing both of them to their feet. He gently turns Dasha to face him, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Daria," he says, his tone serious. "We have to find Victor. He is still free and harming people. Eventually he will come for you, or for me."

"We can outrun him, he is not a great tracker." She takes his hands from her shoulders, gripping them painfully tight. "Even if he does find us, if that time arrives," she touches the spaces between his knuckles. "We are stronger than him. He won't survive."

Logan protests, "Everyday, Victor is raping women, killing people. Innocent people. What kind of man would I be to knowingly let him?"

She lets go of his hands. "If this is what you must do to finally be free, we must go."

Daria turns away and begins to walk deeper into the woods. Logan jogs to catch up to her, grabbing her hand to stop her. He smiles and chuckles.

"Dasha," Logan laughs, "We need to get a few things first."

Dasha continues to walk, tugging him along by the hand. "What things?"

Logan coughs, looking between the two of them, "Clothing would help."

She smiles. "I can take care of that."

Before Logan can stop her, Daria has vanished between the trees. He looks around the small clearing they have been in. His clothing is literally in shreds, caught in the pine needles, on tree branches. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up toward the sky. Through the branches he can see it is dusk.

Logan can hear cars driving nearby. He can also hear the distinct sound of Scott's motorcycle. Curious, he makes his way through the undergrowth. Logan steps on a pine cone and curses under his breath. He reaches the edge of the woods and can see the narrow road, the sound of the motorcycle is becoming louder.

Watching the bend in the road, Logan sees the motorcycle come into view. Except that it isn't Scott driving. Logan watches as Dasha's long flowing curls fly behind her. He watches as she sharply turns the motorcycle toward him. He steps out from his cover, afraid she is about to crash. But the motorcycle leans low on its side as she turns it, she is nearly parallel to the road. She pulls it up and cuts the engine as if she has done this her whole life.

Dasha swings her leg off the bike and shakes her hair as she skips toward him, seeming so innocent. She grins at him. Her arms wrap around his neck and she presses against him, nibbling on his ear. Logan can't help but growl and pull her back into the forest's shelter.

But Dasha breaks away from his embrace and shakes her finger at him teasingly. "And you were the one who said we needed clothing."

Logan groans and follows her back to the road. He stays safely behind a tree. Dasha rifles through a duffel bag next to the motorcycle and starts firing clothing toward Logan, he almost isn't able to catch them. She vanishes from his sight. But as he begins to pull on his clothing, he hears giggling. He looks around him in a circle, but she isn't there.

"So, how did you make it in and out of the mansion without anyone seeing you?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

Suddenly, Logan is knocked to the ground. Dasha giggles as she straddles him. He smirks at her but pulls them both to their feet. Dasha drops to sit Indian style on the ground as Logan finishes dressing himself. He notices she is wearing her old tattered clothing.

"Ach. They are oblivious. I ran right before their eyes and not even a blink!"

Logan chuckles. "And the grand theft auto?"

She tilts her head questioningly.

He motions toward the bike. "The motorcycle. Since when do you know how to ride?"

"I learn quickly." Dasha shrugs. "You can't run like me and I assumed you wouldn't allow me to carry you, and is it stealing if it is yours?"

"Its actually Scott's," Logan admits sheepishly. "He might not be so pissed off if he finds out you took it though."

"Why is that?" she asks blankly.

Logan glances over his shoulder to look at her as he secures the duffel bag to the motorcycle. He can't understand how someone who has lived for so long and seen so much can be so naïve. She seems so innocent, but her eyes are ageless as they blend in with the greenery surrounding her. Logan offers his hand and tugs her to up to stand.

"So where are we off to?" he asks.

Dasha frowns. "You are avoiding my question."

Logan huffs. "Isn't it obvious? The jerk likes you. He stares at you like you're a piece of meat."

Dasha places her hand on Logan's face. "Why are you so angry when you have no reason to fear?"

"Don't I?" he snaps back unexpectedly.

Dasha snarls. She is no longer the innocent, child-like woman Logan has been with the past few hours. Logan inhales sharply. He knows he shouldn't have snapped on her. But on the other hand, he is a man, and a stubborn one at that. He never backs down, even if knows he's made a mistake.

"Allow me to make this clear for you, Wolverine," Dasha purrs, her hand moves to his chest. "I am not Jean, nor will I ever be. I don't fall in love with multiple men, nor do I drag their hearts over coals and leave them for ashes in the flames when I am done toying with them."

Logan snarls back at her. Jean's death is so recent that it burns a hole through him every time her name is mentioned. He steps forward and looms over Daria. She hears his claws extend from his arms.

"Don't talk about Jean like you knew her," Logan rumbles. "It wasn't like that!"

Dasha pushes her hand against his chest and Logan goes flying into a tree across the street. He falls and rolls on the pavement. Before he can roll to stand, Dasha is crouching beside him. Her hand is gently stroking the back of his head. It moves lower until she grips the collar of his leather jacket. She yanks him upward to stand. He eyes her warily as she dusts him off.

"Logan," she says seriously, "I am not here to be her replacement. If that's what you are looking for, I will leave and I promise you I will not come back. Be honest with yourself now, it wouldn't be fair to either of us." Dasha steps back from Logan and spreads out her arms. "I am not here to diminish your memories of Jean, neither am I here to be her replacement for Scott. I am here for you, and you alone."

Logan doesn't hesitate before taking a single stride and pulling Dasha into a kiss. He holds her tight against his chest for a moment. "Are you always that testy?" he asks.

Dasha punches him lightly. "Do you always say stupid things you don't mean?"

He chuckles. "It's a good thing we're both indestructible."

She smiles and dangles the keys to the motorcycle in front of him. "Am I driving?"

Logan snatches the keys from her. "You've been riding for ten minutes. Lets let the pro handle this."

Dasha rolls her eyes at him. "I guarantee I am the better driver."

But they smile at each other. Logan stands the motorcycle up and Dasha climbs behind him, she wraps her arms around him and leans her head against his broad back. The motorcycle rumbles beneath her.

"So, where are we off to?" Logan calls over his shoulder.

Logan can hear laughter in her voice as she responds. "Canada."

Dasha clings to him as he slams the motorcycle into super speed. Even the speed of the motorcycle can't compare to Daria's natural run. She closes her eyes and enjoys the heat of Logan's body as it blocks her from the wind. Past Logan's scent, she can smell snow melting and that spring will soon be here. She gives it less than a month before the snow is gone for the year. The pair rides in a comfortable silence for hours.

As he navigates his way through the thick snowfall at night, Logan feels Dasha move after been still as a stone for hours. She yells something into his ear, but he can't hear her over the wind. Her arms unwrap themselves from his middle and suddenly, all of the weight on the back of the motorcycle is gone. Logan looks over his shoulder, Daria is nowhere to be seen. He quickly looks forward as the bike fails to catch the slick road.

He sees a figure ahead of him in the road, a human figure. Logan cuts the speed on the engine and the motorcycles begins to slide dangerously over the snow on the road. Daria is suddenly in front of him, her hands on the handlebars and she steadies the bike, bringing it to a halt.

"Are you insane?" he shouts at her as he swings himself off the bike and storms toward her, but she vanishes from sight.

Logan can hear her laughing and he whips around where Daria is already standing behind him. She waves her fingers at him. "You couldn't hear me," she shrugs.

There are no lights on the narrow road deep in the forest. Even with the motorcycle's head light, Logan is having trouble.

"Where are we?" he asks her, stretching after the long ride.

Dasha is sniffing the air as she speaks. "We have to go on foot from here."

Logan nearly jumps when he finds her beside him. She cuts the engine on the motorcycle and vanishes with the bike. Logan is left in the near pitch black. The snow is now so heavy that even the moon is invisible to him. He feels a small hand slip into his own.

"Where is the bike?" he asks as she leads him along like a blind man.

"Safe, hidden," she tells him casually. "We have to go in the forest now. Ready?"

"For what?" Logan asks.

But its too late. She knocks him down, but before he can hit the ground, he feels her small arms catch him. Logan swears she is moving so quickly that they could be flying. He closes his eyes. Waiting for them to collide with a tree. Its worse than flying, worse than when Storm upends the jet. Logan has never felt this kind of speed. He's afraid he may be sick.

Just as Logan is about to pry himself out of her grasp at the risk of throwing himself into a tree, Daria comes to a standstill. Daria lets go of him, trying to stand him straight, but Logan weakly waves her off. His hands are on his knees and he takes deep breaths, trying to make the world stop spinning. She pats his back absently and waits for him to straighten up.

Daria takes his hand. She is practically skipping through the blizzard conditions as she leads him against the wind. The cool wind slightly helps Logan fight off the motion sickness. The crunch of snow beneath his feet disappears and he hears his boots thump onto stone. Through the snow he can see the outline of a massive building.

"Dasha," he asks warily, "Where are we?"

Logan can hear the smile in her voice as she responds. "My home."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Reviews appreciated! Enjoy!**_

Dasha leads Logan across a wide porch and through a set of dors that towers over his head. He shakes the snow off himself and is thankful for the warmth. Lights suddenly flood the room. Logan blinks as he adjusts to the change. Dasha's home makes Professor Xavier's mansion look like a shack.

Logan doesn't know where to look first. The dark granite floor gleams beneath the massive chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, its red crystals reflecting against each other, twinkling against the low light of sconces on the stone walls. Logan has asneaking suspciion they aren't simply crystals. A fireplace runs the lenght of the wall across from the doors. Large leather furniture is scattered about the room. Antiques fill the space.

"I didn't know there were castles in Canada," Logan says with a chuckle, as he kicks off his boots and leaves them lined neatly by the door.

Dasha lightly punches him on the shoulder. " I designed it myself. Do you want a tour?"

"Is it going to take days?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I suppose it is late and you need sleep."

Logan shudders as Dasha pulls his coat off him. She lazily tosses it on the coat rack along with hers next to the door. She takes his hand and leads him out of the large entrance room. Outside the arch on the right side of the room is a circular room. A stone staircase winds upward in a spiral along its walls. Plush deep red, nearly the color of blood, carpet runs up the stairs.

Dasha stops him at the bottom of the stairwell and unbuttons his shirt. Her cool hands run the length of his arms as she pushes the sleeves down until the material falls noiselessly to the floor. She vanishes at her speed and he sees her several steps ahead of him. He takes the steps two at a time and lifts her shirt over her head. Dasha giggles and shoots up several steps again.

Logan follows her and traps her against the wall. Dasha tears his wifebeater off. She gasps as she hears his claws extend and he slices through the back of her bra in one snip. He pulls the bra off her and drops it carelessly at their feet. Daria's arms wrap around his neck and he lifts her, causing her legs to wrap around his body.

His breath is heavy as she kisses him and he works his way up the staircase. Dasha lets go of him. She grabs his arm and spins him. He groans as his back slams into a heavy wood door. She is up against him, practically purring into his ear.

"Can't keep your hands off me, can you?" he rumbles.

Dasha has a feral grin on her face as she opens the door and pushes him inside. Low lights that create a soft glow, almost like candlight, illuminate the room. Logan glances around. The room is a perfect stone circle. An impressive four post bed takes up the majority of the space.

The walls are lined with shelves all the way up to the ceiling that is well over twelve feet above their heads and comes to a point, but oddly there is no ladder to reach the top. At first glance at the contents, he sees the visible shelves are filled with records and CDs. Long red velvet curtains hang from the tall narrow windows. He can see the blizzard outside is still going strong.

Daria places a hand on his face and turns him to look at her. her eyes glow strangely in the light. Her lips are particularly red from the extensive kissing on the way up the stairs. Her hand moves slowly downward until it reaches his belt. he closes his eyes as she undoes the buckle and slides the belt through the loops excrutiatingly slowly. She unbuttons and unzips his jeans. As her fingers curl beneath the waist of his briefs and work their way to stroke, Logan can't help but moan.

Logan removes her hand and scoops her up gently, lyhing her down on the red comforter of the bed. he peels off her jeans and leaves her nude beneath him. Dasha watches him as he removes the rest of his clothing. Her back arches as he kisses her in the most private place, working his way up. Dasha' hands are in his hair, but he reaches those thoo. He kisses the palm of her hand and grasps the other, holding them above her head. He moves between her legs. She gasps as he enters her.

"James," she whispers, her eyes closed.

As he increases his pace, Dasha wraps her legs around him. His hands tangle themselves in her hair. Logan pauses for a moment, looking into her eyes. While he's distracted, she flips him onto his back. His hands move to her hips, encouraging her as she becomes lost in the moment. Logan sits up as he supports her. Daria cries out as Logan shudders to an end. Her hair is wild and tangled between them as he pulls her to lie on top of him.

Dasha moves until her ear is over his heart. His arms tighten around her as she kisses his chest softly. She murmurs against his chest, almost sounding sleepy, although it is impossible. Logan strokes her hair as his breath begins to sound normal.

"Why do you call me that?" he asks her quietly.

Dasha is sitting Indian style beside him on the bed in a blur. She frowns. "Habit."

"Habit?" he repeats, struggling to filter through his newfound memories.

"That is your name. James Logan," Dasha replies. Her finger touches his dog tags gently. "Your brother called you Jimmy, but I never thought that suited you. I always called you James. But Logan is beginning to grow on me, I suppose. With those like us though, eventually we must change our names to grow with the times. My time will come again soon enough."

She smiles at him absently. Her eyes and mind are elsewhere.

"Do you miss the young me?" he asks curiously, propping himself up against the wooden headboard.

Dasha blinks. "You're not so innocent now." She grins. "Or breakable. But yes, sometimes I miss when the world was new to you. Mostly, I miss how it felt like I was nearly human when I was with you. You didn't know my secrets; you didn't see me as a threat. But I knew I would never be enough for you."

"How could you not be enough?" he asks as if the thought is ridiculous.

"Sometimes you are still so innocent," she smiles. "I wish you had moments like that more often. Eventually they'll be gone forever."

"How were you not enough?" He asks.

"I couldn't give you what you wanted. Even after I discovered that you didn't age I realized I couldn't give it to you." She sighs. "One day we will come to a crossroad."

"You can see the future?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dasha is across the room now. "Not anymore. When I was human I had gifts, visions. I would have been persecuted for that and other reasons had I not been turned." She pulls a CD from the shelf. "Occasionally I have a glimpse or feeling, but nothing more than that. I no longer can read others."

Dasha puts the CD in a player and a soft, haunting song comes on. It is in a language Logan recognizes, but from his younger days. Dasha hums along and does a private waltz around the room. Her eyes are closed as she spins violently to the voices drifting through the air.

"Russian," he states. "You used to sing this in the woods so I could find you."

Pausing mid-step, Dasha drops her arms. "Yes. I did. How much do you remember?"

Logan closes his eyes as he thinks. "Its been coming back in flashes, pieces. Like that song." He waves her over to him and she pops up curled against his side. "I was born in Canada in 1834. My brother and I, Victor, we stayed in the army the majority of the time. I can remember the wars." Dasha's hand squeezes his own as she sees him flinches at the memories. "I saw you at night sometimes, but you were gone so quickly I thought I was seeing things."

He feels her as she nods. She stays quiet as his breaths begin to even themselves. Soon he is in a deep sleep. He doesn't feel it as Dasha slips out of bed to pull the thick covers over him. She lights a small fre in the fireplace on the other side of the room. Perched on top of the wooden shelves, she closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of the Russian chorus and Logan's beating heart.

* * *

Logan wakes up early in the morning. It is just before dawn. He streatches as he walks toward a narrow window. The stone floor is cold and there is a winter chill in the air, even with the fire burning. The blizzard has gotten worse.

Logan pulls on his jeans and walks barefoot down the staircase. Lights on the walls automatically come on with each step he takes. He makes it into the entrance hall. He rubs his hands together briskly as he steps on the carpet. The massive fireplace is already alit. He works his way arond the furniture and stops mere inches away from the flames, trying to absorb its heat. Reasonably warm, he sniffs the air. Daria's scent is everywhere. As he walks around the room, he can see there is not a speck of dust, as if someone had been cleaning all morning. He sniffs the air again, someone has been cleaning with lemon and vinegar.

The stone floor is cold as he walks through the archway on the left side of the room. It is an exact replica of the circular room and staircase on the other side. Logan peers up the stairwell that is still dark with the blizzard. He sees no other exits or entrances. He leans against the stone wall and there is a scraping sound, Logan feels himself falling backward where he leans.

Just as he is about to hit the ground, Daria is in front of him and grabs his hand. He balances nearly parallel to the floor before she tugs him upward. In her free hand she balances a silver tray with a rounded cover.

"Come, come," she chimes. "Your breakfast is becoming cold."

"My breakfast? What about me?" he growls as he wraps an arm around her middle.

Daria slips from his embrace, several feet ahead of him. He watches appreciatively as her hips sway with her walk. He notices she is wearing his flannel shirt from last night. Her hair is bouncing along to her step. Lights illuminate along the hallway. It seems endless as he follows the red carpet. The walls are stone, lined with what appears to be weapons. Heavy wood doors with iron rings and shaped like arches are evenly spaced. There are no windows.

"Planning to pen a museum?"

She laughs. "No, not quite."

Daria turns and pushes a swinging door. Logan barely catches it as it swings toward his face. He finds himself in a large dining hall. Wood beams cross the peaked stone ceiling. Thrones fit for royalty are spaced around a long table that could easily seat thirty guests comfortably. He doesn't dare guess the age of the furniture. Daria places the silver platter at the head of the table. There is silverware and a cloth napkin placed neatly beside it.

Logan coughs as he sits on the heavy wood chair. He feels uncomfortable in the formal room as he sits bare-chested. Dasha lifts the lid of the platter and sets it aside. He smells the food before he sees it. Toast, waffles, fresh fruit, eggs sunny-side up. There is a tall glass of milk and a small glass of orange juice.

Dasha is suddenly sitting on the table top, Indian style, several feet across from him. She smiles and clasps her hands together. Her posture is immaculate. Logan takes a deep breath, when he releases it there is condensation in the air. He tries not to shudder as the cold sinks in. Dasha has already noticed though. He watches as she lights a fire in the stone hearth and returns to her spot on the table top in a matter of seconds.

"I apologize for the temperature," she says. "I recently upgraded to electric lights, but I haven't invested in heating or cooling yet. Electricity baffles me. I have to use compulsion for workers."

Logan glances up, a fork full of egg halfway to his mouth. "You use compulsion for everything?" he asks curiously.

"No, No!" she protests, waving her hands fleetingly. "I've done the majority of the work myself. But when electricity was invented, I was still behind on the times. I still am, I suppose. There is so much to do to upgrade. But I always pay the people I use compulsion on. I'm not as much as the deviant you think I am."

"I never said that..." Logan begins to protest, but Dasha waves him off.

"You didn't have to," she smiles. "You'll remember soon enough that I am an honest woman. In my human life, I was a peasant. I was poor and dirty. But in this life, I am wealthy. I don't flaunt it though, nor do I cheat the less fortunate."

Logan can't remember when he last ate since finding Daria outside the parking lot. He realizes how ravenous he is. She watches as he eats his breakfast with an increased vigor. But he pauses after a few minutes.

"Dasha, this really isn't necessary," he tells her as he reluctantly takes another bite. He is surprised by how delicious it is, despite the fact that she most likely hasn't eaten human food in nearly a thousand years.

She hops off the table and is quickly behind him. Her cool hands knead his shoulders gently, rhythmically. He closes his eyes for a moment before taking another bite of the eggs.

"I could have made my own food, eaten in the kitchen," he says. "You don't have to serve me like this."

Dasha's hands suddenly clamp down on his shoulders. He grunts at the hard pressure. "I am not a servant, never again. When I cook or clean for you, it is out of respect. Not to serve." She releases her grip. "Remember that," she whispers in his ear.

Logan finishes the rest of his breakfast quickly. Dasha reaches for his empty plate, but he snatches the platter and cover off the table before she can. He stands up and nudges his seat back in with his hip.

"Where's the kitchen, Dasha?" he asks as he walks toward the door.

He inhales sharply as he steps into the hallway, the temperature drops significantly when away from the fireplace. Dasha skips ahead of him like a child, he struggles to keep up. She makes a sudden left through a doorway.

Logan follows in and glances around the room. He looks for a sink, a faucet. But all he sees is a rough wood table and counters. There is also a large hearth with a fire dying down. Cast iron pots and pans hang from hooks beneath the counter edges. Dasha motions him over to her.

"I haven't instilled running water in here," she tells him with a frown. "I don't eat or cook, so the kitchen was the least of my priorities."

Dasha is already filling a small metal basin with water she must have brought in earlier. She kneels on the floor and holds out her hands for the dishes. She's surprised when Logan kneels beside her on the cold floor. He begins washing the dishes with the rag hanging from the side of the bin. Dasha rocks on her heels for a moment before standing, she watches as his rough hands work over the finery.

"Why don't you fix the place up?" he asks her as he finishes. He stands up, crossing his arms as he tries to discreetly inch his way closer to the fire. "You know, so we don't freeze to death."

"As if we could," she laughs. "I work on it during my spare time, but I've been preoccupied."

Logan huffs in response. "Chasing Victor."

"Someone had to watch your back," she shoots back. The phrase sounds odd with her accent. "You certainly weren't."

Logan softens slightly. "What if we spent some time here, working on your home? Or at least in between hunting him down." He looks around the kitchen appraising, analyzing. "We may have to save up some cash, though."

"I think not," she says, "At least not about saving cash, as you put it. Come, come," she takes his hand.

Logan groans as he is lured away from the fireplace. They might as well be outside sitting in the snow at this point. The pair reaches the end of the hall and hit another circular room with a staircase spiraling upward. Dasha doesn't lead them up, however, she presses her hand against the wall and a portion of the stones slides back and to the side. Logan can see as lights come on that there is a small narrow stairwell leading down.

Dasha disappears from view and Logan is left with a long row of lights on the walls to follow. His feet are numb as he makes his way down; there is no carpet on these steps. But the air grows warmer the further he goes. At the bottom of the steep stairwell, Dasha is waiting for him. The room she stands in is no more than a six by six foot square of stone.

"I trust you," Daria says to him.

She turns her back to him and her hands move in flashes over the stones. He can't tell which ones she's hit, but the wall shudders before sliding downward. She walks forward and lights ignite. Logan cautiously follows and his jaw drops as the room comes into sight. The room must be a hundred feet long and just as wide. Floor to ceiling is gold and silver. Jewelry, finery, uncut gems and precious stones lie piled in heaps. Stacks of cash in all different currencies are neatly piled along the walls. As Dasha waves a hand in front of his face, Logan finally snaps to.

He stutters, for once at a loss for words. "Why don't you have this in a bank? Where did it come from?"

Dasha smiles up at him. "What bank would take this in without assuming I stole it? Hmm? And who would ever find this? My hiding spot is safer than any bank vault. The best hiding place is the one that no one knows exists." She winks at him. "As for where it came from, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Dasha bends down and tosses something to him. Logan catches what feels like a rock in his hand. In his hand is what appears to be an emerald the size of his fist. He studies the uncut gem. Though it is beautiful and rare, it doesn't seem to compare to the glow in Daria's green eyes.

"Well, technically I know," he says to her as the shock wears off. He follows Dasha as she leaves the room. As soon as he steps over the threshold the stone slams upward with a crash.

He hands Dasha the emerald before they begin climbing the steps. She turns toward him as the stone wall seals behind them, hiding the staircase. "I trust you. If anything were to happen to me, at least it will be in good hands." She smiles at him, flashing her teeth. "So, do you think this will cover it?"

He jogs to catch up with her as she works her way down the hall. Logan can't take his eyes off Dasha as her hips swing beneath his shirt.

"Will what cover what?" Logan asks, grateful as she stops in the entrance room, where the fire is still going strong.

"The emerald," she says, tapping his forehead, "Do you think it will cover the renovations?"

Logan swallows, as he briskly rubs his hands together and blows into them. "I honestly have no idea how much that is worth, but I would assume yes."

"Let's go then," she says, tugging his hand toward the spiral staircase. "We can go into town and get supplies delivered to the road and I'll carry them to the house," she begins to ramble excitedly, her accent slips out when speaks quickly.

Dasha's voice fades as she darts ahead of him. As he enters the room, Logan finds his duffle bag on top of the already made bed. She's tossing him clothing faster than he can dress himself.

"Whoa, whoa," Logan says as he pulls a wife-beater over his head. "You don't think we're doing all the work, do you? That would take years!"

"It's not as if we don't have the time," she laughs, patting his face gently before she pulls on her own jeans and buttons up his borrowed shirt. She rolls the sleeves as the rest of the material engulfs her.

"I'll freeze to death by the time we finish," he protests, as he sits on the side of the bed and pulls on socks. "Unlike you, I need warmth."

"Well," she says as he follows her down the stairs, "How do you suggest we do this? There is really no way to bring in materials easily."

Once at the front door she throws on her brown leather jacket that looks like it was made during the 1970's. She tosses Logan's to him. He shrugs it on, sure to zipper it as they cross onto the large porch. Dasha starts walking into the storm, not bothered by all by the thick snow fall. Logan hops behind her as he finishes pulling on his boots. He tugs the heavy door shut, surprised by its weight. She has no fear of sunlight touching her today. Logan's boots crunch with each step, he tries to shake off the knee deep snow after a few steps. Dasha cuts through the blanket as if she's a knife, or rather, an ice pick.

Logan follows her scent into the woods as she gets further ahead of him. "Well, how about you just make a road."

Dasha laughs in the shadows. "I don't _want_ people to find me. I've been here since 1702, no trespassers Well, the detours, traps, and wards may have helped, but still."

"How far do we have to carry it back?" Logan asks as he ducks a pine branch.

Dasha is suddenly mere inches in front of him. She grins, her fangs exposed. Before Logan realizes what's happened, she has him in her arms and is sprinting through the woods. Cursing under his breath about death, Logan is smart enough to close his eyes immediately. He can feel Dasha's small hands through the material he wears. He thumps against the ground as she comes to a stop and drops him unceremoniously on the frozen dirt.

As he recovers, Dasha absently pats the top of his head, but vanishes as he swats at her hand. Logan staggers to his feet, taking deep breaths.

"Don't ever do that again," he growls toward the trees where he thinks she's vanished to.

Dasha laughs as she walks out of the trees' shadows; she's leading Scott's motorcycle by the handles. "Would you rather hike the 72miles back to the house later?"

Logan's mouth drops. "How far did we just run?"

She sighs, climbing barefoot onto the motorcycle. "Seventy-two miles," she repeats with slow exaggeration. "Now, are you coming or not?"

He eyes her warily on the motorcycle as she revs the engine. Shaking his head, he climbs behind her, gripping her hips tightly. "Don't you dare tell anyone I let you drive."

But all Logan can hear as Dasha shoots them forward over the slick, ice-covered road is hysterical laughter whipping behind them with the wind.

_**Reviews Appreciated! Enjoy!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**REVIEWS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! ENJOY!**_

It's nearly seven o' clock that evening when Logan and Dasha pull off the side of the road. Logan cuts the engine and hops off. Daria has already hidden the bike and is back at his side by the time he finishes stretching.

Dasha smirks at him and holds out her arms. "Ready?"

Logan groans. "There has to be a better way than this. You know, women aren't supposed to carry…"

But he's already off the ground before he finishes his protest. The run is over before he knows it. He shakes himself as she sets him on his feet. They hurry into the house, Logan staggering in his dizzy state. Daria walks to the fireplace. She begins to fill the hearth with wood from holder when Logan waves her away.

"I'm more than capable of starting a fire," he says to her as he strategically places the logs and kindling in a pyramid.

Dasha kisses his cheek before crawling onto the oversized leather couch, sinking into the cushions. Once Logan has the fire going, he sits beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Dasha sprawls her legs over his lap.

"So," she says, back to business. "The crews will be waiting at the road with materials at 5am. I will lead them in under compulsion. With two crews assigned to each of the five wings, we should have the restoration completed by…"

"The end of next week," Logan finishes for her as he leans his head back on the cushion and pretends to snore. "We've been over it. We've been over every detail. I'm sure everything will be done just as you ordered."

Dasha smiles and pulls a stack of cash from her pocket, fanning herself with it. "And the emerald was more than enough."

Logan chuckles. "You certainly spared no expense."

"Excuse me," she says laughingly. "I believe you were the one insisting on the best." Dasha jumps to her feet and mockingly puts her hands on her hips. "What is the point of doing the job if you're not going to do it right?" she says in a mockingly deep voice, her accent slips out heavily as he laughs at her impression of him.

Logan moves to the edge of the couch and grabs her hips. Tightening his grip, Dasha pauses. His hand pushes back her hair and he begins nuzzling her chest where the buttons on her shirt have been left open. Daria moves her hand on his thigh, trailing upward. She smiles as she hears his breath catch in his throat. While he's distracted, she moves to the other side of the room.

"You must be hungry," she tells him.

Logan shakes his head, "Not at all, come back here."

Just as Dasha considers giving in, she hears his stomach rumble loudly. She arches an eyebrow and crosses her arms.

"Stubborn man," she spats before vanishing.

Logan can hear pots and pans banging in the distance. He rolls his eyes and he goes to push the hidden stone door. As the door opens he jumps when Dasha is inches away. She points the wooden spoon in her hand past him.

"Don't you dare trek those muddy boots through my clean house," she growls.

"What are you going to do about it?" he laughs. Dasha watches as he mockingly grinds one boot on the stone floor.

Logan flinches as her wooden spoon smacks him on the forehead. He growls and she swings again, but he's one step ahead as his claws extend and he swipes. The end of the spoon clunks onto the ground with a thud. Dasha's fangs extend. Logan isn't fast enough to escape her as he bolts back toward the front room. He's tackled at the front door. There's a metallic thump as his head bounces against the floor. Dasha is straddling him as he playfully struggles. He finally gives up and grins at her. As his hands roam upward underneath her shirt, she tries to keep a straight face.

"Mmm. Forget dinner," Logan rasps as he cups her breasts.

Dasha shakes her head and her long curls brush his face. She's already slipped out of his grip, walking toward the door. Logan tugs off his boots and lines them neatly by the door before following her.

"Since when did you become insatiable?" Dasha calls over her shoulder as they walk into the kitchen.

Logan's arms slip around her and he watches over her shoulder as she stirs red sauce over the fire. "Since I met you."

Dasha laughs. "Naughty boy."

"Boy?" he barks at her.

She turns and slips away, kneeling at the wall. Logan notices a small wood door no more than a square foot. It opens to outside where the snow is a drift now. She turns back to him with a beer in her hand. Logan twists the cap off and takes a swig.

"You're a fraction of my age, James," she says while smiling, but she catches her mistake. "I apologize, I meant to say Logan."

Logan sets his bottle on the table and takes her free hand as she stirs boiling noodles on a second hook in the fireplace. The cold beer makes his hand cool, nearly the same temperature as hers.

"You don't have to be sorry," he says to her, he smirks. "It's not as if you're referring to another man."

Dasha smiles at him, but there is a sad tinge to it. She's piling the pasta and sauce onto a dish for him. Steam rises up from it as she sets it on the table. Logan sits down with his beer and blows on the portion on the end of his fork. Dasha perches herself on the seat to his right, crouching on her heels. He glances at her and chuckles. She makes it look as if it's the most comfortable position in the world.

"Is there something wrong with the food?" she asks as he proceeds to dig into the pasta as if he hasn't eaten in days.

Logan shakes his head. "Not at all." He motions toward her with the fork in his hand. "You remind me of a cat, ready to pounce."

Dasha grins and her fangs slip out. "Who says I am not?"

As he finishes, Logan pushes his seat back slightly and takes a sip of his beer. "Dasha, for a woman who doesn't eat that was delicious."

She smiles. "I am pleased you enjoyed it." She picks up his dishes and sets them in the tin tub to soak.

Dasha is suddenly curled in Logan's lap at the table. He jumps, nearly dropping the beer in his hand.

"Why do you do that?" he asks her, bringing the bottle to his lips.

"Why go slow when I can go fast?" Dasha's pouts her lips paler than usual. "Does it bother you?"

Logan shakes his head. "You don't want to move normally sometimes? Live normally?"

She pulls away to look at him. "This is normal for me." She is suddenly out of his lap and beside the fireplace. "Do you know why I live out here?"

"Why are you here?" Logan finishes his beer and sets it down. He moves so close to her that she can feel the heat rolling off of him. "Dasha, you can tell me anything. I'm not afraid of you. I don't care about what you've done in the past." He chuckles and brushes back her hair. "I'm sure I've done worse."

"Its not an easy question to answer," Dasha says quietly. Her lips brush against the hand he has against her face. "Its hundreds of years' worth of my nature fighting my humanity."

"Well," Logan says as he quickly tosses her over his shoulder. "It's a good thing we have eternity."

Dasha squeals and squirms against his grip. He taps her on her behind playfully. Dasha can see he is carrying her toward her bedroom in the southeast tower. At the bottom of the spiral steps she disappears from Logan's grip. He automatically spins and sees her behind him. He has to take a breath when he sees her clothing is in a pile at her feet. The wall behind her has opened into another long hall that runs parallel to the one on the other side of the house.

She dances ahead of him, causing the walls' sconces to ignite as she twirls underneath them. Logan jogs after her. She makes a left through an open door. Logan walks into an enormous marble bathroom. A stone tub the size of a small pool takes up the center of the room. Dasha is already sitting in the still water as more steaming water pours in from five separate faucets.

Bubbles begin to fill the upper portion of the tub. "I don't do bubble baths," Logan says to her as he crosses his arms.

But as Dasha crooks her finger, signaling for him to join her, he smirks slightly. Logan's clothing piles on the tile. The water is hotter than he had suspected as he steps in, letting out a sharp breath. Dasha is immediately straddling his lap as soon as he sits on the stone bench beneath the surface. Logan's hand reaches up toward her face; he hears a click as Dasha turns away. When she looks at him, he can see her fangs have extended. Logan touches one with the tip of his finger, but pulls away as he realizes how razor sharp it is.

"So," Logan says as rests his hands on her hips. "Why is it that you're a hermit living in the wilderness?"

Dasha springs backward into the water, splashing Logan's face. She comes up, her hair fanned around her like living coral. She treads water, causing small ripples to spread from her. "I wasn't always like this," she says quietly. "Originally I stayed away for fear that I would harm them. I was uncontrollable. I could drain a village in a night." She lies on her back in the sea of bubbles. "I didn't keep up with society, and soon it became very obvious that I wasn't 'normal.' I didn't speak the same as them, my clothing was outdated, and of course, people eventually noticed I avoided the daylight."

"Why now though?" Logan asks her. "You told me before you have control over your," he coughs, "Thirst."

Dasha playfully splashes him. "Yes, I was once very good at it. But between you and me, I fall off the wagon every once in a while." She is suddenly in his lap, her lips against his throat.

"Daria," he warns her sternly. She hesitates but pulls away, scooting of his lap and floating toward the center of the bath.

"I apologize," she says, like a scolded child.

Logan moves toward her. "Is my blood different?"

Dasha kicks away from him gently. "Yes."

Logan catches her ankle and tugs her back to him. "Is that what first drew you to me?"

"No," she says with a smile. "I was never with you for your blood." She licks her lips, "Though you are delicious."

Logan kisses her gently. He pulls away with a grin. "You're warm."

"Just warm?" she asks with a pout. "I thought the term was hot?"

Logan laughs and brushes her bottom lip with his thumb. "Yes, that too." He kisses her cheek. "In fact, has anyone told you that accent is hot?"

Dasha smiles. "How do you think I catch my meals?" She slips out of his embrace, continuing with her story, "As time went on, my fear for hurting humans morphed into another kind of fear." She blows a handful of bubbles toward him. "I have seen the cruelty humans are capable of. And more importantly, I have seen their ignorance and intolerance for the unknown. Why would I put myself in that sort of danger? Why risk discovery?" She is suddenly behind him, her hands on his shoulders. "Unlike humans who live to kill, I only killed to live. I simply want to exist, not to harm. Humans," she spats out the word. "They destroy nature, destroy what they don't understand."

Her fingers curl and knead his knotted muscles. Logan puts his hand over hers and pulls her into his lap.

"So you put yourself in solitary confinement because you're afraid of humans?" Logan summarizes. Dasha nods and he bursts out laughing. "You're afraid of weak humans who don't stand a chance against you?" He kisses her lips between the laughter. "Ridiculous. You're indestructible!"

Dasha pulls out of his arms. "James, you are still so young." She pats his face. "They've already come after your kind. Don't you see it?"

Logan stands up. Dasha can't help but appreciate the water rolling off his body. He shudders as his body adjusts to the cool air. "So, we'll stay here while the rest of the world crumbles?"

"Do you know why I built this place?" she asks him as she stands up beside him. He shakes his head, water droplets falling onto her. "I built this home when I still had hope. For six hundred years, I had hope for humanity. I had hope that my family would live in this home for generations. I built this home in a land where there were no kings or queens." She is sitting on the stone edge around the bath in a flash, her hand running over the cool marble. "It seems my family was never able to grow as large as I hoped. And of course, after Victor ended my family I had absolutely no reason to spend time near humans. I fell back into my nature, living wild. I didn't think about the future. When you live forever, the future ceases to matter."

Logan steps up to her, she wraps her legs around his waist. His hands are in her hair. But it's quickly turning as hard as icicles, curls frozen in place. Logan lifts her and backs them into the water until he is sitting on the bench again.

"Is it really forever for you?" he asks as her hands rest against his chest.

Dasha smiles. "I can die if that's what you're asking."

"How?" he asks as he squeezes her thigh gently.

"I can't tell you," she whispers against his lips. "That is my greatest secret."

Logan pulls away. "Are there more of you?"

"Vampires?" she clarifies. "How would I be here if there weren't? We are everywhere. Witches, shape shifters, werewolves…"

His mouth drops slightly. "But you're all technically mutants, right?"

Dasha shakes her head. "What we are cannot be explained by science. Your professor can study me all he wants and he will still have no answers. We are defined by magic and the earth." She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning in closely. "They call you a Mutant, but I think they are wrong. The first time I tasted your blood I knew there was magic tied to you."

Logan's hand wraps in the hair at the nape of her back, forcing her to tilt her head back. He nuzzles her shoulder blade and works his way up her jaw. "Do you know what you smell like?" he asks her. Dasha's eyes close and she shakes her head barely a fraction.

"You smell of snow, salt, and wildflowers," he rumbles against her throat. "Is it magic?"

Dasha squirms as his hands wander through the water and against her body. "When I was turned, my characteristics were enhanced. Where I grew up was snow nearly year round. I spent my summers by the Sea." She smiles at him. "I wore crowns of wildflowers, even after I married and had my daughters."

Logan's hands stop moving. "You were married?"

"You seem surprised," she says. "I had my first child when I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" he nearly chokes. "How many children did you have?"

Dasha closes her eyes and smiles to herself, trying to picture their faces as she speaks. "My father married me off cheaply for a single head of cattle. No one else in the village would have me. I was married to a man three times my age at fifteen. My first born was a beautiful girl, her name was Uta. She was followed by three sons, but they didn't survive. Two were born sleeping and the third passed away before he was seven days old." Her brow furrows. "Their names were Vlad, Dimitri, and Gabriel. And then I had my last two babes. Twin girls. Marina and Tatiana." Dasha's hands dart up to her eyes, wiping away tears.

Logan grabs her hand and kisses it. "You don't have to hide your tears from me."

Dasha shakes her head. Logan notices as a single tear escapes that it is tinged red, bloody. He wipes it away for her with his thumb.

"This is silly," she protests, "I shouldn't be crying over them. Their lives were simple, but at least they didn't suffer my curse. My girls were happy. I watched them from afar."

"You mean being a Vampire?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No. My youngest girls were already three when I was turned. My curse was something my father's blood passed down. I was a shape-shifter before I was turned Vampire. That large black cat you saw me as before was what I turned into on full moons."

"Should you still have been able to shift even after becoming a Vampire?"

Dasha laughs. "That's the ironic part of my story I suppose. I traded my life to my Maker only because he promised me freedom from my curse." Her hands run through his hair. "I was young and foolish, desperate. My life became an eternal Hell on earth those first few years. I did not understand myself, my Maker abandoned me as soon as he turned me."

"You didn't know what you would become?" Logan asks; she can feel his hot breath on her face.

Dasha shakes her head. "I had no idea. When I woke up Vampire, all I knew was I was thirsty, and I couldn't stop myself from feeding once I started. I never slept. And I was faster and stronger than imaginable." She shudders suddenly. "It didn't take me very long to realize my dilemma with the sun. Every time sunlight touched my bare skin, I shifted. The pain I once endured as a shifter only once a month became a daily problem."

"So Vampires can walk in the daylight?" he asks. "The stories aren't true?"

Dasha laughs. "They are stories for a reason. No, when a person becomes Vampire they react to the sunlight individually. Some may burn if they believed in myths before they were changed. For some it makes them mad, breeds insanity with in them." She brushes a stray lock of hair off his forehead. "Generally whatever your greatest fear or weakness was as a human becomes magnified. Mine happened to be my curse."

Logan tries to break the tension and chuckles. "So Vampire life isn't as glamorous as the movies say?"

Dasha suddenly grins at him, her fangs exposed. "I wouldn't say that. I am never hungry, I have my freedom. I can travel the world. I have made myself wealthy. I didn't die as a servant or have my body tossed out into the snow for the wolves." She touches the tip of his nose. "Had I not become Vampire I would not have found you."

"Why didn't you find a companion? Become a maker?" Logan asks her, searching her eyes.

"I never found a human worth spending eternity with," Dasha whispers in his ear.


	8. Chapter 8

_**REVIEWS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! ENJOY!**_

Dasha and Logan are in the large four post bed. His arm lies limply over her middle as he sleeps deeply. They have spent the past week overseeing the crews in the castle. Today Dasha plans on leading them out to the road and paying them, no memories of the past week's work under the tyrant woman.

She slips out of Logan's embrace without causing him to stir. Dasha dresses as she stares at a full moon outside the tall narrow window. She throws on jeans and a t-shirt and runs her fingers through her hair before hurrying down the stairs. The crew is already waiting for her at the front door. The younger men blush as they watch her move down the stairs, slow for her, but still too fast to be human. She can see the looks on their faces as they label her silently as a Mutant. The older men shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

Her eyes flash quickly. "Follow me, men and boys."

As the large group follows her noisily into the forest, Dasha quickly moves ahead. She makes a wide arc out of their earshot and appears behind them. She grabs the men unaware, two at a time, dropping them at the road. In a matter of ten minutes they are all at blacktop where the snow is melting slowly and ice is hidden on the road. Dasha gives each of the men ample payment, in cash. Before they can move toward their parked trucks, she blocks the men.

Dasha's eyes flash again, her voice is low and controlled as she speaks. "You will all go home with your payment. You were never here. You never saw me, my companion, or my castle. If asked where you were, you will simply say you had a work project on the shore. Now go."

The men walk past her, leaving a wide arc around her. As the last man is about to pass her, she flashes her eyes at him and grabs the collar of his coat.

"Not you," Dasha growls, dragging him into the forest as the trucks pull away.

Dasha sinks her teeth into his neck like a snake striking. The man cries out, but she covers his mouth, leaving the man to muffled whimpering. She doesn't want to kill him, but its been over a week since she fed. By the time she gains some semblance of control, it is too late. In a matter of seconds, the whimpers disappear and his breath is still. She tosses his body over her shoulder and runs more than a hundred miles from the castle, far enough where Logan won't be able to catch the scent of a decaying body.

She lays the body on the ground. His eyes are still open, a watery brown color. Taking a breath, Dasha closes his eyes for the final time. She shreds his clothing to look like an animal attack, adding new wounds to the corpse. She carefully wipes her mouth using a rag from his shirt. Taking a handful of snow, she rinses until the taste of blood is gone. Dasha looks at the man once more before leaving him in her tracks. The animals will take care of the rest.

Dasha slips back into bed with Logan before the sun rises. Her clothing is piled on the floor beside the bed. Logan's eyes snap open when her cold skin touches him. His claws are extended, narrowly missing the new bedspread they just purchased. When his eyes focus, he notices Dasha and relaxes.

"Go back to sleep," she whispers in his ear. "It is too early for you to wake."

Logan rubs his eyes half-heartedly but obliges her and adjusts his pillow. He can hear her as she slips away and puts music on a low volume. By the scratching sound, he knows she's chosen a record. He smiles as he feels her return to his side, sure not to touch him with her cool skin. The now-heated room makes her skin tolerable. Logan turns over and rolls until he is propped over her body, he leans down and kisses her.

Dasha laughs, "No, no. Go back to sleep."

Logan's stubble tickles her neck and she squirms. "How can I sleep with you in my bed?"

"Well, since you are up," she purrs, but she slips from beneath him and is across the room, pulling on one of his white t-shirts. "Let's go!"

She jumps around him on the bed He doesn't know where to turn first, but finally catches her around the waist mid-jump. "Always go, go, go," he complains against her stomach. "Let's stay in bed all day."

Dasha tsks at him, "Up! Dress warm!"

Logan groans and falls back onto the plush mattress. He shakes his head at her as she starts firing clothing at him. He gives in with an exaggerated sigh. As he dresses, Logan catches Dasha admiring him while he dresses

"Like the view?" he asks her with a smirk.

Dasha laughs and disappears down the stairs. When Logan finally trails after her, he sees her waiting at the front door with two ancient looking sleds in her hands.

He crosses his arms and laughs. "You want us to go sledding? Isn't that a bit childish for a man over 150 years old and a woman almost 1,000?"

Dasha grins. "Today is the last day of snow, and then we will have months without it." She props the sleds on the wall and pushes him into an arm chair, slipping his boots on for him. "Please?" she pouts at him.

"Fine," he growls. She can hear him mutter under his breath about it being too early and not being in the military for a reason. He stands up and grabs the sleds on the way out the door. He hears it shut behind him and Dasha is at his side, clad in merely his t-shirt. "You're not cold at all?"

Dasha dances in front of him, twirling under the falling snowflakes, the last of the year. Between Dasha's alabaster skin and the white t-shirt, she nearly blends in with the snow. They go around the castle and walk north. The incline soon becomes steep as they dodge between the pine trees. She finally stops at the top of the ridge as Logan struggles not to slip. He is panting by the time he reaches her, dropping the sleds at her feet. She grins at him.

She shakes her finger at him. "You wouldn't be so tired if you had just let me carry you."

He growls playfully. "Where's the hill?" he asks, looking around at all the trees that tower them.

Dasha points down the steep incline they just trailed up. Logan shakes his head as he sees all of the trees he could possible hit. He crosses his arms.

"This is where I draw the line," he tells her. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Dasha laughs and spins around him. She stops with her hands on his chest. "Not up for a race?" She taunts. "Don't want a girl to beat the Wolverine?" she mocks as her hands move toward his face.

Logan catches her wrists. "You can try."

Dasha laughs and darts away, appearing crouched on the balls of her feet on one of the sleds. Logan reluctantly lines himself up on the one next to her. Kneeling on it, he grabs the thin rope that connects to the steering bar. The sleds are old fashioned Radio Flyers. Knowing Dasha, these are probably off the first production line. The sled is sinking under the weight of his Adamantium.

"On three," she says. "One, two, three!"

Dasha throws herself forward, tipping the sled over the edge. She blows a kiss to Logan who hasn't been able to budge his sled over the incline. He finally tips it over; his weight causes it to dangerously catapult him down the hill. He begins to close in on her. She weaves between the trees ahead of him, riding on the sled as if it is a part of her. Logan extends his claws, knocking away the lower branches as he approaches. As her scent begins to fade, he realizes she is much further ahead than he anticipated.

He glances around as he narrowly misses the trunk of an oak tree. With his claws extended, he uses them like paddles, creating ruts in the earth and propelling himself further ahead. Her scent is close, almost close enough to touch her. But Logan yelps as something lands on the back rails of his sled, balancing perilously at this speed. A hand grips his shoulder gently.

"Now, was it just me, or were you trying to cheat?" Dasha laughs into his ear. "Naughty boy."

The weight disappears from his sled in a moment. He sees Daria swing herself onto an already moving sled. She waves at him before darting forward, leaning low over the steering bar. As Logan watches her hair blow behind her, whipping in the wind, he realizes too late that he is heading straight toward a stray boulder in his path. Seeing no way out of it, Logan grits his teeth and leaps off the flying sled.

He closes his eyes, waiting for his imminent crash, but nothing happens. The wind is knocked from him as familiar arms catch him. Dasha laughs in his ear and scoots behind, allowing him room to sit down. Her arms wrap around his middle as she leaves him to steer.

"Logan," Dasha suddenly warns - her voice almost frantic.

But it is too late. They are approaching the tree ahead of them much too quickly.

"Hold on!" Logan rumbles over his shoulder.

He stabs the frozen ground with his claws and the sled turns sharply, causing Dasha to fly off. Like a cat, Dasha nearly lands on the balls of her feet. But Logan's body slams into her like a boulder. His body hurls her into a small tree. She can hear the sled continue down the hill.

Logan begins to move slowly on top of her as he shakes off the crash. Dasha roughly rolls his body off her.

"You may as well be a rock," she complains.

He hears her hiss and looks down, realizing his claws have gone through her abdomen and pinned her to the tree. Logan retracts his claws and immediately moves his hands to where there was blood on her shirt. She doesn't pay attention to his worry. Dasha watches as the small cuts on his skin begin to vanish.

"Incredible," she says distractedly as her hand traces one of the lines of blood on his face.

His hands gently gloss over her skin, reassuring himself that he didn't truly harm her. She jumps to her feet, hands on her hips as she grins at him.

"I win," she says defiantly.

Logan laughs, still on his knees in the snow. "Says who?"

She runs a hand through his damp hair. "Says the woman who was ahead the entire race." She smiles, flashing her fangs. "Care for another try, Wolverine?"

Logan arches an eyebrow as he gets to his feet and picks up a mangled sled. "A race to the death again? I think I'll pass."

"I prefer to call it High-Stakes Sledding," she smiles. "One of the beauties of immortality."

She pulls the sled from Logan's hand and drops it on the ground before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. His hands are on her hips and move upward under his t-shirt. Dasha giggles against his lips and slaps his hand away.

"Suddenly shy?" he growls as he presses her into the tree she had been impaled on only moments before. Dasha squirms beneath him, still giggling. His hands start at her thighs again and work up, but she slaps his hand away again. "Or are you laughing at me?"

She gasps as his hands graze her side. "You are tickling me!"

Logan moves her to the ground in one swift move as if she is a rag doll. He straddles her and continues to run his finger tips over her skin, causing her to laugh uncontrollably. At the sound of her laughter, birds in the trees start to warble as if in response. Her laughter is like music.

Dasha vanishes from underneath him. Before Logan can turn his head to look for her, a snowball connects to the side of his face. He shakes his head like an animal to get the majority of the snow out of his hair. He can hear her giggling. Instinctively, he looks up. Dasha is sitting on a narrow tree branch above him. She waves her fingers before shaking the branch next to her and showering him with an avalanche of snow from the blizzard.

Logan growls at her as she lands on her feet in front of him. She smiles and bolts ahead of him at a slower than normal speed for her. She taunts him as she sways her hips ahead of him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he is following. Logan jogs and finally catches up to her. He shakes some of the snow from himself onto her. She laughs and nuzzles his neck before darting away.

Bending down to scoop up a snowball, Logan is about to chuck it at her when she is inches away and her hand grips his wrist.

"Now that isn't fair," Logan starts to tease, but he notices the serious look on her face.

"Someone is here," she whispers, sniffing the air experimentally.

Logan drops the snow ball and sniffs the air as well, but he doesn't smell anything except Dasha's natural scent. She turns sharply and starts speeding toward the castle. Logan struggles to keep up.

"Dasha," he calls out. Within a moment she is in front of him.

"They are working their way in toward the castle from the road," she says quietly. She closes her eyes. "Two people."

Logan lets out his breath. "Maybe they are just hiking," he says to her calmly.

She shakes her head. "No, they are almost half way here. They've avoided my traps. There's no guarantee the ward will hold up," she says it mostly to herself.

Dasha runs away again. Logan is left beside the castle as she ignores his repeated calls. He hopes the trees will be enough to cover Dasha as he tries to follow her scent. The sun is rising.

Dasha runs at full speed, her bare feet barely leave footsteps in the snow as she mostly propels herself from tree to tree. Merely thirty miles from the castle, she catches the scent of a person, a young woman, maybe eighteen or so. High in the tree, she spots the strange woman below her, glancing around in circles. Dasha turns her head to the side curiously. The young woman is in a strange black leather outfit. Her hair is dark, with a streak of white. There is nothing threatening about her.

Before she can look up, Dasha is upon the young woman, slamming her into the tree by her leather outfit. The girl desperately reaches for Dasha's bare hand, tapping it repeatedly as if something is supposed to happen. Dasha grins at her, exposing her teeth.

"My guess is Mutant," she says to her so closely that her cool breath can be felt. "You are out of luck. Whatever your little trick is, it won't work on me."

The girl continues to struggle as Dasha begins to lift her upward, causing her feet to search for solid ground. As she opens her mouth to ask another question, she hears footsteps behind her.

"Don't hurt her, Daria," Storm warns her. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Dasha drops the girl like a used toy and turns swiftly. She laughs at Storm's threat as she watches her eyes become a cloudy white. She begins to lift from the ground and thunder booms around them. Before Storm can conjure lightening, Dasha has her hand around the girl's neck.

"You can try to kill me, but it will cost her life," Dasha laughs. "But I promise to play nice if you will."

Storm hesitates but lowers herself to the ground. Dasha releases the girl and she goes stumbling toward Storm. She circles the pair, eyeing them for weapons.

"We're not here to hurt you," the girl quickly tells her.

Dasha is instantly inches from the girl that looks no older than she. "And what is your name, child?"

"Rogue," she says, trying to stand straighter. "We just came for Logan, to ask a favor."

"Hmm," Dasha allows. "Is this true, Storm?"

Storm nods. "Yes, and also we came to make amends to you on the Professor's behalf." She eyes the terrain around them. "We didn't think his wheel chair was up to the task," she adds with a friendly smile.

Dasha jumps up and is sitting on a branch above them. She crosses her arms. "I am listening."

Storm rolls her eyes briefly. "He apologizes for studying you without your permission. He says that you are welcome to stay at the school if those are still Logan's wishes." Storm pauses and smiles at her, "If it makes you feel any better, he didn't learn anything from the labs. You are still a mystery."

Dasha claps her hands once and grins. She drops to the ground before them, not making a sound as she does so. "I am appreciative for the apology. Unfortunately, I cannot answer for Logan. But I will gladly take you to him."

Rogue eyes her wearily and Storm smiles. "Is he here?" she asks.

Dasha tsks at her quietly. "You already know the answer or you would not be here. Of course, he is at my home." Dasha grabs both of their hands. "Ready?"

Storm nods and Rogue gasps as Dasha tows them at her high speed run through the forestry. "Close your eyes," she suggests to them with a laugh.

Within moments, Dasha comes to a stop. Storm stands up straight; the speed is not an issue for her. Rogue on the other hand is still bent over, clutching her stomach. Dasha pats her back briskly, nearly knocking her to the ground as she passes her. Storm stops in her tracks when she sees Dasha's private castle.

"This is where you live?" she asks, arching an eyebrow at her. She takes in the leaves and pine needles embedded in her long curls.

The vampire grins. "Pegged me as a mad woman living in the trees?" She darts away. "For the most part, that is truer than you can possibly imagine."

Dasha is at the door, holding it open for them and extends her arm toward them like a proper hostess. Rogue and Storm follow Dasha into the main room of the house. They see Logan pacing before the massive fireplace.

"Look who I found wandering through my forest," Dasha chimes to him.

His eyebrows arch when he notices who the company is. Rogue jogs toward him and gives him a hug, careful that her skin won't touch him.

"Hey, Kid," he says to her as he pulls away. He eyes the X-Men uniform suspiciously. "Are you here for my company or business?"

"Both," Storm cuts in for her, removing her cape.

Before she can lay it over her arm, Dasha has snatched it and hung it on the coat rack. The vampire vanishes from the room completely; Logan suspects she is trying to give him privacy, silently hoping she went to get dressed. He waves to the two women to sit down. They do so cautiously. Rogue doesn't know where to look in the ornate room.

"So, what is it?" he asks roughly, still stung by the Professor's intrusive study on Dasha.

"Logan," Rogue says, almost pleadingly. "Please come back to the mansion. You belong with us."

Storm pats her on the shoulder. "More importantly, the Professor has a favor to ask. Scott hasn't been himself since…"

"Jean's death," Logan fills in for her brusquely. He crosses his arms.

She nods. "Yes. He disappears for days, he isn't teaching his classes."

Logan sits down on one of the winged back chairs. "You're talking to the wrong guy. I don't teach physics or calculus." He leans in toward them, his elbows on his knees. "Not to mention, I'm a man of my word. I'm not going back to that school after what the Professor did to Dasha."

The three jump in their seats when Dasha is suddenly in front of them. She has a tray of steaming tea and coffee for Logan. The tea cups are fine china and plated with gold. Storm hesitantly picks up one of the delicate cups. As she brings it to her lips, Rogue's gloved hand stops her.

"How do you know she isn't trying to poison us?" Rogue hisses at her, glancing warningly at Dasha who is perched at Logan's feet, leaning against his legs.

"Listen, Kid," Logan growls. "I don't appreciate the attitude."

Storm nods and sips her tea. "If Logan trusts her, I trust her."

Rogue crosses her arm and leans back into the couch, stubbornly avoiding the tea. "So, are you going to come back?"

Logan opens his mouth to answer, but Dasha places a hand on his knee to stop him. "Before you say no, they apologized to me on behalf of the Professor. I can come with you. But if you prefer it, I can wait here."

He nods at her brief explanation. "How long would this be for?"

Storm shakes her head. "I don't know, at least until Scott comes around somewhat. I need you for simulation and hand-to-hand combat classes."

Logan shakes his head. "I'll do this for you, Storm. Not the professor."

"Hey," Rogue protests. "What about me? I volunteered to come all the way out here for you."

Logan chuckles. "You too, Kid."

Storm sets her tea cup down. "You know, we aren't used to having so much trouble locating Mutants. Logan was easy enough to track down with Cerebro. We brought the jet and our radar picked up nothing but forest, no place to land. We ended up driving out and working our way through the woods." She smiles and whispers. "How is it that your home goes under the radar?"

Dasha looks at Logan. "Is it safe to tell them?"

He nods, but gives Storm a stern look. "I promise not to tell anyone," she says.

Dasha smiles briefly. "You probably will not believe me. But as for why my home never shows up on radar, it is because of the ward. I had a Witch put a powerful ward protecting my home. It's an enchantment of sorts, making it appear that the forest extends through my home rather than a sizeable castle. If you had reached here by foot, the ward would have confused you and naturally caused you to go around it." Dasha grins. "But I have a question for you, how did you escape my traps?"

Rogue shudders at the question. Storm pats her leg. "They were clever, your bear pit nearly got Rogue. Luckily we dodged them before they got the best of us. No human would have survived them."

Dasha claps her hands delightfully. "I'll have to reset them later, just to give you warning."

Rogue is eyeing Dasha darkly, despite the fact that the blood on her white shirt adds to her feral appearance. Logan's hands are lazily pulling out the pine needles and leaves from her long curls.

"Storm, she's obviously lying or insane," Rogue cuts in. She waves her hand at Logan. "Did you rescue her too?"

Logan glances up and pulls his hands away from Dasha's hair. "Its not like that, Rogue."

"She's not much older than me," Rogue snaps back. "I always thought better of you than that."

Dasha pats Logan's leg as growl builds in his chest. "You are a child." Dasha hisses at Rogue, suddenly looming above the sitting Mutant. "I am nearly a thousand years old." Her fangs extend. "And I am not the right person to pick a fight with."

Rogue yanks off her glove and grabs Dasha's hand. But still, her powers have no effect on the strange woman. The vampire pulls away from the girl's weak grip and skips back to Logan in her scanty t-shirt. He catches the bug-eyed looks that Rogue and Storm are sending toward her state of dress. Logan coughs.

"Maybe you should throw something on to cover up," Logan suggests to her.

Dasha smiles at him and disappears in a flash. Logan straightens in his chair and glares at Rogue.

"Witches?" Storm asks.

Logan nods. "I thought she was lying too at first," he says. "Or that she was insane. But its all true. Vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, magic. She says they are everywhere, continuing to hide from the public as the public persecutes Mutants."

"Are you sure, Logan?" Rogue asks. "Or is she just playing with you?"

Fed up with Rogue's childish behavior, Logan snaps. His claws extend quietly and he leans forward. "Kid, you are messing with the wrong woman. She will snap and kill you if you continue to test her."

Rogue glares at him. "And you wouldn't even stop her?"

Logan shakes her head. "Its not that I wouldn't stop her, it's that I can't."


End file.
